


Nothing Like the Sun

by jane_x80



Series: Nothing Like the Sun (or Kirk's Eyes) [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blue Eyes, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: McCoy's thoughts on Kirk's blue eyes over the years.





	Nothing Like the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> So now we have McCoy's thoughts on Kirk's eyes. Just to be clear, although this series is about Kirk's eyes, each story isn't necessarily in the same 'verse or connected in any way. They're just a series of one shots about Kirk's eyes from different points of view. There are references to both Star Trek (2009) and Star Trek: Into Darkness here.
> 
> I can't decide if I'm more of a Kirk/Spock or Kick/McCoy fan. Seriously. How can anyone choose with all the hotness? :D
> 
> And as I mentioned before, I may have an unhealthy obsession with Kirk's eyes. ;)
> 
> The title of this fic (and this series) comes from [Shakespeare's Sonnet 130](http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/130.html), a sonnet I've loved for years.

His mistress’s eyes were nothing like the sun. For one thing, if McCoy ever called him his mistress, he would have had his ass kicked, and not in the fun way. And for another, some might argue that McCoy was the mistress, given Kirk’s commitment to the Enterprise. But regardless, those eyes were nothing like the sun. They were like the ocean on a sunny day. They were like the Savannah sky in the dog days of summer, wide and deep and so blue you could easily get lost in them. Their shade matched the Atlantic Ocean off of Tybee Island, where he spent many summers with his grandparents. They were blue like a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, making him want to abandon bourbon for a cool glass of gin and tonic.

His first sight of them was during a haze of bourbon intoxication. He was still not drunk enough to ride in the shuttle without being crippled by aviophobia, yet drunk enough that he was crankier than he usually was, which was saying a lot. But certainly not too drunk to notice the pretty face and the Cherenkov blue eyes of the kid sitting next to him on the shuttle. These days, the thought that his first impression of those radiant azure eyes made him think of Cherenkov and the blue of radiation made him shudder inwardly, as he never wanted to hear the words ‘radiation’ and ‘Kirk’ in the same sentence ever again. But back then, those Cherenkov blue eyes shone almost unnaturally and captivated McCoy, even as he lamented the fact that he was on a shuttle, and listed all of the things that could horribly go wrong, resulting in a terrible death for all of them.

Those sharp blue eyes had taken him in and correctly assessed his condition, his inebriation, and the kid had reminded him, not unkindly, that Starfleet operated in space. But those eyes had been older than the face they were in. His poor battered face looked so young compared to the wisdom and depth in those blue eyes. He had taken the flask McCoy held out and in return offered him his name. And then those eyes had stayed on him, keeping him sane for the rest of the flight as McCoy couldn’t help but pour out his troubles to those wise old eyes, telling him about his awful divorce, and the pain of losing custody of his daughter, and the kid just listened, not even complaining when McCoy had actually thrown up on him.

They’d gotten off the shuttle in San Francisco, those eyes kind and sympathetic, as he escorted McCoy to cadet intake, while the other cadets dispersed, most of them about to start their second year at the Academy. McCoy realized then that the blue-eyed man had no luggage to speak of. He’d gotten on the shuttle with just the clothes on his back, and he didn’t seem bothered by that. Those eyes had just crinkled in amusement when McCoy crankily pointed this out to him and berated him for being completely unprepared. And just like that, McCoy acquired a blue-eyed shadow and new best friend, and even though he complained about it, he loved the weird kid with the startling eyes.

But all these years later, McCoy had seen so many different things in those eyes. He knew how his pupils reacted when he shone a light in it when he was concussed versus when he wasn’t concussed. How they lit up with sultry lust when they went out drinking and he honed in on his prey for the evening. How they shuttered and closed off when cadets mentioned his father to his face, regardless of the context. How they gleamed with intelligence when he debated with his instructors in class because goddamn the kid, he was too smart for his own good by half and, like McCoy’s Mama, he never could stand a fool so he had to engage in debates and discussions about all of the topics relevant and not relevant to his classes. McCoy was more than familiar with the bleariness of them after a long night of hard drinking, and was constantly amazed by how they still peeked out like crocuses in spring, their brilliance unmistakable, even when his eyes were practically swollen shut after a severe beating. He would whine and fuss as he waited for McCoy to fix him up, use the magic of 23rd Century medicine to almost instantly restore them to their annoyingly attractive glory.

Why was it the man seemed to always manage to get himself beat up? For a cadet who’d skipped ahead to Advanced Hand to Hand Combat classes in his first semester at the Academy, he seemed to always end up bloodied and bruised after an altercation. From the time of his recruitment when he showed up on the shuttle beat up to all hell, throughout the academy years, and even as Captain of the Enterprise, Jim Kirk seemed more than willing to take a beating as long as he could get a few punches in himself, and sometimes even when he didn’t stand a chance of defending himself. But when McCoy grumpily asked him this question, why in tarnation it was Jim who ended up hurt, every single time he had to patch the man up, those baby blues would simply look at him, limpid pools of faked innocence, hiding and masking his every thought.

At the Academy, McCoy had been the only one to see those eyes glowing in the dark, bright with fever and primal fear, when Jim woke screaming from his terrible nightmares, the contents of which he never talked about, and the sheer panic in them when he came back to himself and found himself cradled in McCoy’s arms. He’d seen those eyes glitter like jewels when he was being deliberately cruel, like a cat playing with its food, and then soften with warmth, opening up, when he spoke with Joanna, McCoy’s daughter. Why it was Jim was so good with children, McCoy didn’t know. But he was surprisingly very comfortable with children and kids immediately took to him, for whatever reason. Joanna certainly had, much to Jocelyn, his ex-wife’s chagrin. Maybe it was because he barely acted older than an infant himself that made children relate to him? How would McCoy know? He was a doctor, goddammit. Not a fucking babysitter for an overgrown infant. But when Jim was with Joanna, there was a protectiveness in those eyes, as if anyone who tried to harm his daughter would thoroughly regret it. Being around children brought out the mama grizzly bear out of Jim Kirk, which was a sight to behold. Those electric blue eyes of his, protective and fierce, made his cock harden in his pants and his mouth dry with desire.

His favorite sight of those eyes was of them while Jim was writhing under him, his mouth open, panting and moaning, barely a trace of the bright blue around his blown pupils, indescribably hot when they widened as he found his release. Jim always kept his eyes open when he was being fucked, sapphire eyes holding his gaze, trapping him more effectively than a web or a tractor beam. And afterwards, when Jim was come-drunk and sleepy, he would nuzzle his face into McCoy’s chest like a kitten searching for warmth, uncaring if he was rubbing himself into his own come spattered all over McCoy’s chest and belly, and practically purring when McCoy called him Darlin’.

And his least favorite sight was those same sapphire eyes, casual and friendly the morning after. Friends with benefits was what they were. Because Jim was unable to be in a committed relationship. He didn’t even know what that was, and had never been exposed to such a relationship, at least not without the dramatic, heroic death and the tears and the pining that he saw in what was left of his mother. McCoy could only sit, trying not to let Jim see how it affected him when Jim used those eyes to seduce some other being for a meaningless one night stand. Or even to seduce some other being and convince them to let McCoy fuck them, so he could watch and touch himself as he appreciated them together. Jim would never hold McCoy to fidelity when he himself was unable to do that himself. And sometimes, sometimes McCoy hated Jim and his beautiful eyes. Sometimes he truly hated those eyes. Because even though it damned near killed him, he gave Jim whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. Because the sight of those eyes, swollen, red-rimmed, filled with tears, sad and mournful as he hid himself on his own birthday, or when he’d had too much to drink and his thoughts turned to his past – which he never talked about, no matter how drunk he was – it was always enough to make McCoy never want to be the one to put that look in Jim’s eyes.

And so, McCoy stayed with him. They even roomed together their last two years at the Academy, and then he had followed Kirk out into space. Jim had been the one to help him overcome his aviophobia. He’d originally thought he would choose to be stationed at some Federation outpost on a faraway planet, but he’d be dirtside if he could help it. But the thought of allowing Jim and his blue eyes disappearing off into space without him was completely unacceptable.

So he went with him. Into the black.

Damn him and his goddamn fucking unnatural blue eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [Cherenkov blue](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherenkov_radiation) is a real thing and all the images make it look blue like Kirk's eyes.
> 
> I found myself reading this with a Southern drawl and adding words as I went along. Hopefully it sounds like McCoy's thoughts. Again, it's my first time. And in my defense, I was always more of a fan of ST: TNG than TOS, until the reboot movies, so McCoy's unique brand of crankiness and Southern charm is really hard to capture.
> 
> There are some hints of Kirk's time on Tarsus IV (TOS s1e14 The Conscience of the King) but very vague, McCoy doesn't have any knowledge of it, so I don't feel right tagging this as a Tarsus IV fic. I've also assimilated some of McCoy's history from TOS (e.g., his ex-wife's name, and that he has a daughter). None of this has been mentioned in the reboot movies, but neither have they been disputed so I'm going with it!
> 
> Hope y'all liked it. Thanks :)


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